


Breaking Locks

by SWoodnutt



Category: James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 07:59:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SWoodnutt/pseuds/SWoodnutt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Catherine is looking for her dad. She's also trying to escape an organisation trying to kill her. She goes to London to discover that her father is the infamous James Bond, Agent 007 of the British Secret Service. ALL RIGHTS AND CREDIT FOR CERTAIN CHARACTERS(James Bond, M, Q, Eve Moneypenny) GO TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNER (Ian Fleming, Eon Productions etc.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Locks

My name is Catherine or Cat. I'm seventeen and I'm wanted in more than 8 countries. Why? Because of whom my father is. I don't know who my father is and I don't know why they want to kill him. I only know I have to find him and fast, before it’s too late and they find me.

My mother was killed in an 'accident' but I know better. She was murdered by the same organisation that wants to kill me. I've been living alone since I was fourteen and I know how to take care of myself. Before she died, my mother gave me a gun. A Walter PPK 9mm handgun.   
"It was your father's. It's all he left." She said as she made her way out f the door. "I love you, baby." That was the last thing she ever said to me. I'll never forget her light brown hair or her green eyes. I'll always remember what her voice sounded like and I'll always remember what her hugs felt like. I'll always remember my mum.  
I lived in India for two years, only because it wasn't abnormal for a young girl to live alone. The heat and the crowds were immensely terrifying for the first few months of living there, but I got used to it. Being on the run means you need to be able to adapt quickly and blend in with the crowds. As a fifteen year old girl that was difficult but I met Isha and she helped me. She was a local orphan and turned out to be the most loyal friend I had ever had. She showed me the tricks of being alone in the hustle of the city and taught me how to get by. I had many friends who lived with me and Isha was one of them. Everyone listened to her and everyone respected her. We all got on and life was good. Until the organisation found us, they murdered my friends. All of them except Isha. The organisation was out looking for me. I had to leave. That was the moment I decided to return to England and find my father, but most importantly to find answers and to stop anyone else from getting hurt or killed.

I was sitting on the plane remembering what Isha had said to me as she peered into the blood splattered room that was once our bedroom. I could hear the pain in her voice.   
"I thought it would be safe. I thought you weren't dangerous. I thought I could trust you." She turned and glared at me. "I was wrong." She spat as she made her way out of the door. I attempted to pursue her but lost her in the market crowds.   
As I was remembering, the plane landed and my neighbour nudged me out of my daydream. He was a man in his late fifties and was a pleasant man. He had spoken to me for a while before he drifted off, somewhere over North Africa.   
"Come on love, we're here now," he smiled as he stood up. I smiled and got up, grabbing my rucksack from the luggage compartment above. The man let me go first and I smiled politely at him before making my way down the plane to the stairs. I looked out into the drizzly rain at my first sight of England since I was twelve. It was cold and I regretted not taking my old jumper with me. I followed the other passengers into the terminal. I walked straight past the luggage carousel as I only had my rucksack and straight through passport control. I had been lucky. My passport was only just still in date and I got through no problem. I caught the first bus to London and made my way to my mother’s old place hoping that I could find some sort of connection to my father.

The walk took longer than anticipated and by the time I got to the large terraced house in Central London, I was frozen to the bone and my feet were blistered from the wet shoes on them. My hair was plastered to my head and the rain was pounding down onto the pavement in front of me. I looked at the house and then carefully took my mum's old documents out of my wet rucksack. The number and street name were right. I looked up at the house again, gulped, and made my way up the stairs. I hesitated for a moment before finally ringing the doorbell. I waited patiently for a few minutes until a woman of about forty opened the door. She gasped as she saw my face.   
"Catherine?" She whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> This is also on my Movellas page! Will post link if you want? More chapters are up on there so yeah :)


End file.
